"I was agreeing with you, I thought," said John.

"But nothing is so provoking as always agreeing with one--and I can tell you, Mr. Verytrue, that though Caroline Percy is not mine yet, I have nevertheless a little suspicion, that, such even as I am, she might readily be brought to love, honour, and obey me."

"I don't doubt it, for I never yet knew a woman that was not ready enough to be married," quoth John. "But this is not the right ramrod, after all."

"There you are wrong, John, on the other side," said Buckhurst; "for I can a.s.sure you, Miss Caroline Percy is not one of your young ladies who would marry any body. And even though she might like me, I am not at all sure that she would marry me--for obedience to the best of fathers might interfere."

"There's the point," said John; "for thereby hangs the fortune; and it would be a _deuced_ thing to have the girl without the fortune."

"Not so _deuced_ a thing to me as you think," said Buckhurst, laughing; "for, poor as I am, I can a.s.sure you the fortune is not my object--I am not a mercenary dog."

"By-the-bye," cried John, "now you talk of dogs, I wish to Heaven above, you had not given away that fine puppy of mine to that foolish old man, who never was out a shooting in his days--the dog's just as much thrown away as if you had drowned him. Now, do you know, if I had had _the making_ of that puppy--"

"Puppy!" exclaimed Buckhurst: "is it possible you can be thinking of a puppy, John, when I am talking to you of what is of so much consequence?--when the whole happiness of my life is at stake?"

"Stake!--Well, but what can I do more!" said John: "have not I been standing here this half hour with my gun in my hand this fine day, listening to you prosing about I don't know what?"

"That's the very thing I complain of--that you do not know what: a pretty brother!" said Buckhurst.

John made no further reply, but left the room sullenly, whistling as he went.

Left to his own cogitations, Buckhurst fell into a reverie upon the charms of Caroline Percy, and upon the probable pleasure of dancing with her at the race-ball; after this, he recurred to the bitter recollection, that he must decide about his debts, and the church.

A bright idea came into his mind, that he might have recourse to Mr.

Percy, and, perhaps, prevail upon him to persuade his father not to force him to a step which he could not reconcile either to his conscience or his inclination.--No sooner thought than done.--He called for his horse and rode as hard as he could to Percy-hall.--When a boy he had been intimate in the Percy family; but he had been long absent at school and at the university; they had seen him only during the vacations, and since his late return to the country. Though Mr. Percy could not entirely approve of his character, yet he thought there were many good points about Buckhurst; the frankness and candour with which he now laid his whole mind and all his affairs open to him--debts--love--fears--hopes--follies--faults--without reserve or extenuation, interested Mr. Percy in his favour.--Pitying his distress, and admiring the motives from which he acted, Mr. Percy said, that though he had no right to interfere in Mr. Falconer's family affairs, yet that he could, and would, so far a.s.sist Buckhurst, as to lend him the money for which he was immediately pressed, that he might not be driven by necessity to go into that profession, which ought to be embraced only from the highest and purest motives. Buckhurst thanked him with transports of grat.i.tude for this generous kindness, which was far beyond his expectations, and which, indeed, had never entered into his hopes. Mr. Percy seized the moment when the young man's mind was warmed with good feelings, to endeavour to bring him to serious thoughts and rational determinations about his future life. He represented, that it was unreasonable to expect that his father should let him go into the army, when he had received an education to prepare himself for a profession, in which his literary talents might be of advantage both to himself and his family; that Mr. Falconer was not rich enough to forward two of his sons in the army; that if Buckhurst, from conscientious motives, declined the provision which his father had in view for him in the church, he was bound to exert himself to obtain an independent maintenance in another line of life; that he had talents which would succeed at the bar, if he had application and perseverance sufficient to go through the necessary drudgery at the commencement of the study of the law.

Here Buckhurst groaned.--But Mr. Percy observed that there was no other way of proving that he acted from conscientious motives respecting the church; for otherwise it would appear that he preferred the army only because he fancied it would afford a life of idleness and pleasure.--That this would also be his only chance of winning the approbation of the object of his affections, and of placing himself in a situation in which he could marry.--Buckhurst, who was capable of being strongly influenced by good motives, especially from one who had obliged him, instantly, and in the most handsome manner, acknowledged the truth and justice of Mr. Percy's arguments, and declared that he was ready to begin the study of the law directly, if his father would consent to it; and that he would submit to any drudgery rather than do what he felt to be base and wrong. Mr. Percy, at his earnest request, applied to Mr.

Falconer, and with all the delicacy that was becoming, claimed the right of relationship to speak of Mr. Falconer's family affairs, and told him what he had ventured to do about Buckhurst's debts; and what the young man now wished for himself.--The commissioner looked much disappointed and vexed.

"The bar!" cried he: "Mr. Percy, you don't know him as well as I do. I will answer for it, he will never go through with it--and then he is to change his profession again!--and all the expense and all the trouble is to fall on me!--and I am to provide for him at last!--In all probability, by the time Buckhurst knows his own mind, the paralytic inc.u.mbent will be dead, and the living of Chipping-Friars given away.--And where am I to find nine hundred a year, I pray you, at a minute's notice, for this conscientious youth, who, by that time, will tell me his scruples were all nonsense, and that I should have known better than to listen to them? Nine hundred a year does not come in a man's way at every turn of his life; and if he gives it up now, it is not my fault--let him look to it."

Mr. Percy replied, "that Buckhurst had declared himself ready to abide by the consequences, and that he promised he would never complain of the lot he had chosen for himself, much less reproach his father for his compliance, and that he was resolute to maintain himself at the bar."

"Yes: very fine.--And how long will it be before he makes nine hundred a year at the bar?"

Mr. Percy, who knew that none but worldly considerations made any impression upon this father, suggested that he would have to maintain his son during the life of the paralytic inc.u.mbent, and the expense of Buckhurst's being at the bar would not probably be greater; and though it might be several years before he could make nine hundred, or, perhaps, one hundred a year at the bar, yet that if he succeeded, which, with Buckhurst's talents, nothing but the want of perseverance could prevent, he might make nine thousand a year by the profession of the law--more than in the scope of human probability, and with all the patronage his father's address could procure, he could hope to obtain in the church.

"Well, let him try--let him try," repeated the commissioner, who, vexed as he was, did not choose to run the risk of disobliging Mr. Percy, losing a good match for him, or undergoing the scandal of its being known that he forced his son into the church.

For obtaining this consent, however reluctantly granted by the commissioner, Buckhurst warmly thanked Mr. Percy, who made one condition with him, that he would go up to town immediately to commence his studies.

This Buckhurst faithfully promised to do, and only implored permission to declare his attachment to Caroline.--Caroline was at this time not quite eighteen, too young, her father said, to think of forming any serious engagement, even were it with a person suited to her in fortune and in every other respect.

Buckhurst declared that he had no idea of endeavouring even to obtain from Miss Caroline Percy any promise or engagement.--He had been treated, he said, too generously by her father, to attempt to take any step without his entire approbation.

He knew he was not, and could not for many years, be in circ.u.mstances that would enable him to support a daughter of Mr. Percy's in the station to which she was, by her birth and fortune, ent.i.tled.--All he asked, he repeated, was to be permitted to declare to her his pa.s.sion.

Mr. Percy thought it was more prudent to let it be declared openly than to have it secretly suspected; therefore he consented to this request, trusting much to Buckhurst's honour and to Caroline's prudence.

To this first declaration of love Caroline listened with a degree of composure which astonished and mortified her lover. He had flattered himself that, at least, her vanity or pride would have been apparently gratified by her conquest.--But there was none of the flutter of vanity in her manner, nor any of the repressed satisfaction of pride. There were in her looks and words only simplicity and dignity.--She said that she was at present occupied happily in various ways, endeavouring to improve herself, and that she should be sorry to have her mind turned from these pursuits; she desired to secure time to compare and judge of her own tastes, and of the characters of others, before she should make any engagement, or form an attachment on which the happiness of her life must depend. She said she was equally desirous to keep herself free, and to avoid injuring the happiness of the man who had honoured her by his preference; therefore she requested he would discontinue a pursuit, which she could not encourage him to hope would ever be successful.--Long before the time when she should think it prudent to marry, even if she were to meet with a character perfectly suited to hers, she hoped that her cousin Buckhurst would be united to some woman who would be able to return his affection.

The manner in which all this was said convinced Buckhurst that she spoke the plain and exact truth. From the ease and frankness with which she had hitherto conversed with him, he had flattered himself that it would not be difficult to prepossess her heart in his favour; but now, when he saw the same ease and simplicity unchanged in her manner, he was convinced that he had been mistaken. He had still hopes that in time he might make an impression upon her, and he urged that she was not yet sufficiently acquainted with his character to be able to judge whether or not it would suit hers. She frankly told him all she thought of him, and in doing so impressed him with the conviction that she had both discerned the merits and discovered the defects of his character: she gave him back a representation of himself, which he felt to be exactly just, and yet which struck him with all the force of novelty.

"It is myself," he exclaimed: "but I never knew myself till now."

He had such pleasure in hearing Caroline speak of him, that he wished even to hear her speak of his faults--of these he would, however, have been better pleased, if she had spoken with less calmness and indulgence.

"She is a great way from love as yet," thought Buckhurst. "It is astonishing, that with powers and knowledge on all other subjects so far above her age, she should know so little even of the common language of sentiment; very extraordinary, that with so much kindness, and such an amiable disposition, she should have so little sensibility."

The novelty of this insensibility, and of this perfect simplicity, so unlike all he had observed in the manners and minds of other young ladies to whom he had been accustomed, had, however, a great effect upon her lover. The openness and unaffected serenity of Caroline's countenance at this moment appeared to him more charming than any other thing he had ever beheld in the most finished coquette, or the most fashionable beauty.

What a divine creature she will be a few years hence! thought he. The time will come, when Love may waken this Psyche!--And what glory it would be to me to produce to the world such perfection!

With these mixed ideas of love and glory, Buckhurst took leave of Caroline; still he retained hope in spite of her calm and decided refusal. He knew the power of constant attention, and the display of ardent pa.s.sion, to win the female heart. He trusted also in no slight degree to the reputation he had already acquired of being a favourite with the fair s.e.x.

CHAPTER IV.

Buckhurst Falconer returned to Percy-hall.

He came provided with something like an excuse--he had business--his father had desired him to ask Mr. Percy to take charge of a box of family papers for him, as he apprehended that, when he was absent from the country, his steward had not been as careful of them as he ought to have been.

Mr. Percy willingly consented to take charge of the papers, but he desired that, before they were left with him, Buckhurst should take a list of them.

Buckhurst was unprepared for this task.

His head was intent on a ball and on Caroline. However, he was obliged to undergo this labour; and when he had finished it, Mr. Percy, who happened to be preparing some new leases of considerable farms, was so busy, in the midst of his papers, that there was no such thing as touching upon the subject of the ball. At length the ladies of the family appeared, and all the parchments were at last out of the way--Buckhurst began upon his real business, and said he meant to delay going to town a few days longer, because there was to be a ball early in the ensuing week.--"Nothing more natural," said Mr. Percy, "than to wish to go to a ball; yet," added he, gravely, "when a man of honour gives his promise that nothing shall prevent him from commencing his studies immediately, I did not expect that the first temptation--"

"Oh! my dear Mr. Percy," said Buckhurst, endeavouring to laugh away the displeasure, or rather the disappointment which he saw in Mr. Percy's countenance, "a few days can make no difference."

"Only the difference of a term," said Mr. Percy; "and the difference between promising and performing. You thought me unjust yesterday, when I told you that I feared you would prefer present amus.e.m.e.nt to future happiness."

"Amus.e.m.e.nt!" exclaimed Buckhurst, turning suddenly towards Caroline; "do you imagine _that_ is my object?" Then approaching her, he said in a low voice, "It is a natural mistake for you to make, Miss Caroline Percy--for you--who know nothing of love. Amus.e.m.e.nt! It is not amus.e.m.e.nt that detains me--can you think I would stay for a ball, unless I expected to meet you there?"

"Then I will not go," said Caroline: "it would be coquetry to meet you there, when, as I thought, I had distinctly explained to you yesterday--"

"Oh! don't repeat that," interrupted Buckhurst: "a lady is never bound to remember what she said yesterday--especially if it were a cruel sentence; I hope hereafter you will change your mind--let me live upon hope."

"I will never give any false hopes," said Caroline; "and since I cannot add to your happiness, I will take care not to diminish it. I will not be the cause of your breaking your promise to my father: I will not be the means of tempting you to lower yourself in his opinion--I will not go to this ball."

Buckhurst smiled, went on with some commonplace raillery about cruelty, and took his leave, fancying that Caroline could not be in earnest in her threat, as he called it.--As his disobedience would have the excuse of _love_, he thought he might venture to transgress the letter of the promise.

When the time came, he went to the ball, almost certain that Caroline would break her resolution, as he knew that she had never yet been at a public a.s.sembly, and it was natural that one so sure of being admired would be anxious to be seen. His surprise and disappointment were great when no Caroline appeared.

He asked Rosamond if her sister was not well?

"Perfectly well."